I attempt not to fall asleep as I type this. Three rather unfortunate things have happened, perhaps foreboding. I mean, all before I intended to post here. The pseudo-universe squeals in high frequencies : the start of you spending your time growing your brainseeds and expanding your narccissitic abilities on a blog will mean bad, BAD things.
BUT I will push forth, like er…Hilary (sp?) Swank. Forgive my lack of true imagination, my father brought home September’s InStyle for general vapid gaping. It features her.
Three bad things :
- bedside lamp fell – breaking nice environmentally friendly IKEA bulb;
- I burnt the toast; and
- I can’t seem to work the sister’s sewing machine.
Re: last bullet point, I have not touched a contraption like this in recent years, but I am only somewhat cajoled by this explanation of my ineptitude. Also did not bother with the manual. FAIL.
Anyway, today’s juiceness comes from three things.
One : I wish I was born with the below silver spoon in my mouth. The fruit and cream would have also been welcomed. (Deb McClean’s brilliance)
Two : Four slivers of thingies to show you.
Clockwise from the left:
- a dress sketch (which I rarely do, having mediocre proportionating drawing abilities);
- my birthday free gift card from L’Occitane (I should bring my father to collect it. He after all purchases InStyle and Men’s Folio);
- Vico, my favourite chocolate drink which has a mysterious lack of internet presence;
- and, my happy candlestick earring holder for my frequently used ones
It’s September, already.
I need to get to the hills.